


Shared Wounds

by TaurusVersant



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Abuse Mentions, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, post-interrogation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 07:39:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13565922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaurusVersant/pseuds/TaurusVersant
Summary: They've all been hurt. They've all suffered.Sometimes accepting that is the hardest part of all.





	Shared Wounds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RetroKinetic](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=RetroKinetic).



> Best wishes to my good buddy RetroKinetic, whose birthday it is today. I know what she loves and it's AkiRyu and Post-Interrogation scenes! So I got her both! Enjoy!

His fist hurts as it meets metal, flesh fraying in the moment, raw skin beneath stinging and forcing his breath to catch. For a moment there's just that, that feeling of pain, and he's relieved. An escape from everything else whirling about in his head, beating him down again and again. But it's only a moment. He's already shaking. If he swings again it'll do damage that won't easily be fixed.

But god, to hurt to escape the pain.

In the apartments behind him, up the stairs, through the door to where he and his mother live, then another into his room, a blinking light flashes on his bed. A phone, dropped, its message unread. If he could see them it'd be so much worse. He couldn't have their thoughts mingling with his own.

Even if they were all the same.

> **Ann** : Did you see how much concealer he had on?  
>  **Ann** : I couldn't believe it  
>  **Yusuke** : Not to mention his uneven gait.  
>  **Yusuke** : The way he loosely let his right leg hang was... concerning.  
>  **Makoto** : Futaba, how was he after we left?  
>  **Futaba** : WISH I KNEW  
>  **Futaba** : dumbass kept posturing the whole time i was there  
>  **Futaba** : dad had to chase me out saying he needed rest  
>  **Futaba** : like we didn't all know  
>  **Haru** : Akira-kun...  
>  **Haru** : Will we ever know what he went through?  
>  **Ann** : I don't know if I could...  
>  **Ann** : I think I'd have cried if I'd seen him without all that makeup on  
>  **Makoto** : That's likely why he did it.
> 
> **Several people are typing...**

Ryuji ran. He ran because running took focus. Moderate your breathing. Pace your steps. Balance the twinges in his leg, remember how to keep in control. Ever since everything began with the Phantom Thieves, he'd been a lot more active. Started to feel the same way he'd felt in the past, when running was all that mattered.

It didn't take long for the thoughts to twist and mingle again. When Akira had walked into the cafe Ryuji had been so _excited_ , here was his best friend, safe and sound, with them again. He'd thrown his arm around Akira's shoulders, ruffled his hair, beamed at him. Ryuji was so happy.

Then he'd let Akira go, watched him take one careful step into Leblanc, and felt his stomach drop out. Cause the way Akira moved his leg, his _right_ leg, brought it all back. Ryuji relived the sneering face looking over him, the pain, the anguish, but now he was Akira too. Alone as well. With no-one around who truly cared as he was beaten, as the one with power tried to break him.

He didn't even know how he'd made it through that meeting. They'll all tried to catch themselves in the pace of the story, discussing a victory, pretending, for Akira's own sake, they didn't understand how much they'd lost all the same. He remembered bouncing his leg agitatedly at one point, feeling resentment simmering over as Akira tried to pretend like he was fine, and only not letting loose because Ann had found his hand and squeezed it tight. She understood him. She got how close he was to losing it. But she shook her head just a little and her expression begged him not to do this. Not now. So he clamped down on all his anger and frustration and waited. And waited.

And waited.

Then they all left Leblanc again. It was late. Everyone going their separate ways. Ann called out to him but he waved her off. He couldn't talk in front of Leblanc because he was about to start yelling and if Akira heard him he... he... he didn't know.

He didn't know what to do.

So now he ran. Phone back home, lying atop his bed. Knuckles of his right hand raw, a patch of skin torn from the impact with a power-pole outside his apartment complex. He ran because he thought it might help him escape this, but nothing was working. The swirling of his thoughts was starting to break him down, the twinging pain in his right leg made him think of Akira, and the way he'd gingerly moved before, and everything just got worse and worse and worse. He couldn't do this. Not like this.

It was far too much.

Ryuji stopped, hands clutching thighs, breathing heavily as he kept his head down, sweat dripping from his forehead. It was a cold autumn night, but the heat searing him was more than enough to ignore it. Maybe if he focused on it, the feeling of his body heaving in the breaths, he could escape.

No. He couldn't.

_The next train is heading to: Shibuya. I repeat, the next train is heading to: Shibuya._

The electronic voice broke through his thoughts, shook him from his stupor, and raised his eyes to the glowing station before him. Without even thinking he'd reached the train station near his house. His wallet, still in his pocket, had his pass. He could go anywhere. Anywhere as long as he was happy catching the last train of the night at this hour.

But if there was anywhere he'd want to be right now it was...

A new thought, new determination, and Ryuji strode through the gates. Yeah. There was somewhere he could be right now. He didn't know if it was the best answer, or even the right one, but it was what he wanted more than anything else.

The train doors closed behind him.

Yongen-Jaya is quiet at this hour. He walks the streets and is the only one out there, lights out, windows closed, blinds shut. Now the chill of November is getting to him, but he's too focused on where he's going to let it beat him down. Not, at least, until he ends up outside the front door to Leblanc.

Now he has to somehow get in.

Of course the first thought is to just send Akira a text, but Ryuji's phone's isn't here, he'd thrown the damn thing away as soon as he got home so he couldn't be part of the conversation the others were having. Just talking about what Akira had gone through would have driven him insane. He couldn't do it.

Now though, he had a problem. The last train had been what brought him here. The air was cold. And Leblanc's door was closed. Could he... find some rocks and toss them at Akira's window? No, he'd probably end up breaking it and then the Boss would have his hide. Climb up there? Urgh, that'd just be more trouble. What was he even doing? Trying to just show up on Akira's doorstep like this? Akira didn't want anyone to see him right now – did Ryuji really have the right to force his way in there? Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. His own reflection in the glass of Leblanc's closed door scowled back at him. Did he really amount to anything here? Anything that could help? Of course he couldn't. Fool. Dumbass. Moron. That scowling face, his raised fist threatened it. But it was just his own face and this was Leblanc's door. No matter how much he wanted to hit something, anything, he wouldn't do this. So he just stood there and stared. What... was he even doing?

With a click and a jingle, the door swing inwards, Ryuji staring blankly as it moved seemingly all of its own. Then a voice, a haughty judging voice, reached up to his ears.

“Are you just going to stand there looking like some kind of thief casing the place you idiot? Come inside already! It's cold and my whiskers are liable to freeze off!”

Morgana, standing in the entrance staring up at Ryuji, made a tsking sound that begged for Ryuji to snap back. But a chill wind blew in the same moment and he felt it, grabbing at his shoulders and hastily stepping inside. The warmth greeted him welcomingly.

“Close the door behind you, it's a lot easier to open then close for me!”

“Surprised you could even manage that, Mona,” Ryuji did as he was told, but still found the energy to snipe at the cat. “Did you grow some thumbs or something?”

“Shut it Ryuji, I'm just as capable without thumbs as you are with, if I had any I'd never have needed you to begin with!”

“What was that?!”

A stare-down between the two crackled electrically in the air, before Morgana sighed and huffed, hopping up onto one of the couches of Leblanc. “He's upstairs,” a voice emerged from the circle of black and white fur Morgana curled into, “pretending to sleep.”

Ryuji nodded and made his way up to the cafe's attic. How many times had he climbed those stairs so far? Enough to know every creak of the steps. Familiarity. It helped calm him. Just a little.

“Hey,” Akira's voice, in the dark of the room, reached Ryuji as he entered the attic, “little late for a visit, isn't it?” It was so relaxed, so friendly and teasing like Akira always was, that for a moment Ryuji almost believed everything was fine.

But then he reached out a hand to the lightswitch on the wall and Akira's voice was suddenly not that. It was urgent, and hissed. A single command. “Don't.” Ryuji stopped. The moment was silent. And then Akira breathed out. “You don't want to see me like this.”

“Dude,” Ryuji's head was pounding, “you think I don't get it? Come on, man, trust me?”

Another moment. Another heavy breath. The silhouette of Akira, sitting on his bed, unwilling, or unable, to stand, shook his head slowly. “ _I_ don't want you to see me like this.”

Ryuji lowered his hand.

It took a bit, silence all there was between them, before Ryuji understood he had to move. So he walked across the boards of the attic floor, step by creaky step, until he was at the futon Akira was sat upon. Then sat himself down next to the other. Just like that.

Silence for a bit longer. Ryuji's breathing was mostly recovered from his run, but now it was the tension he was trying to hold back affecting him. Akira's breathing was bad. Ryuji kept his eyes down.

“They really effed you up, didn't they?”

“It looks worse than it is,” Akira lied without a missed beat. “We won, that's what matters.”

Ryuji got a little angry hearing that.

“That ain't right,” he shook his head, “You shouldn't have had to go through what you did, man. It's bullshit.”

“I'll heal,” Akira pretended that he believed some parts of him wouldn't always remember this. “It'll all be worth it in the end.”

Clenching his fists wasn't helping the way it usually did. Ryuji's teeth were grit.

“Going through that ain't ever 'worth it',” there was a growl to his voice now, “don't matter what happens, this shouldn't have. Being hurt like this is... it's...”

“It's fine,” Akira stressed it, trying to delude himself as much as those he cared for. “I knew this might happen, it all worked out. Just... let it go.”

His anger overflowed.

“ _Fuck_ that!” Ryuji's outburst immediately caused Akira to lean back, the teen now staring him in the face, the darkness barely disguising features at this distance. “Let it go? You got tortured dude and you want us to 'let it go'? Screw that! Screw it to hell! You think we should just let go of the shit that sucks because it worked out? If you say us being here 'worked out', don't that mean I've gotta let go of what that bastard Kamoshida did? That Ann's gotta? That Shih- that everyone's gotta forget it cause hey, 'things worked out'?”

The chill of November found its way into the room. Akira was silent, mouth slightly open, staring at the furious Ryuji before him. Ryuji slammed a fist into his own leg. The left one. Even now he knew better than to target his right.

“You think Yusuke, or Makoto, or Futaba, or _Haru_ has to just sit there and say 'things are okay now so what happened is fine'? That it? Huh Akira?”

Akira was shaking his head quickly, stammering at the anger Ryuji was releasing. “N-no, what you guys went through was real and-”

“ _Real_?!” How could... how could he say that? “And what, what you went through wasn't 'real'? We're not allowed to think that you shouldn't be hurt? Only you get to feel for others in pain? Your friends aren't allowed to care about you? That it, Akira?”

Stunned, overwhelmed, slightly sleep-deprived – the last night had been fitful at best, he wasn't sure he'd slept properly at all – Akira just sat there. There was nothing he could say.

Ryuji's shoulders shook. “Fuck, man, we nearly lost you.” A tremble to his voice, “I nearly lost you.”

When Akira's hand reached Ryuji's shoulder, Ryuji startled. He was sure, so sure, that even in the dark he could see a gentle smile on the face of the one next to him. Then Akira fell backwards, head hitting the pillow behind him. He breathed out, slowly, but with determination, until he coughed and gingerly held a hand over his chest. Ryuji kept watch the whole time.

“Sorry,” eventually the word came from the boy beside him, “I... sorry.” Shaking his head, Ryuji leaned back as well, lying down beside Akira.

“Dumbass, what are you apologising for?”

Moments of silence passed, the two side-by-side. The presence of warmth, of someone who cared, at his side, reached Akira. He blinked bleary tears away. Stared up at the ceiling. “So the last train's gone, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Can't be helped then, I'll put you up for the night.”

“Thanks man.”

“Ryuji?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“... yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> Still not really sure what I'm gonna do with Akira's new anime name. I've kinda gone all in on Akira in my mainline series of fics, so I can't use Ren there. Do I use it for oneshot standalone fics or just give up on it altogether? Not sure. For now, Akira.
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Best wishes to you, Retro.


End file.
